


The Forgiveness of Sins

by orphan_account



Series: The Credo Collection [1]
Category: Ashes to Ashes, Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Credo collection</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forgiveness of Sins

I hate this. I really loathe that feeling of coming around. It isn’t the “where am I?” question, it’s the realisation that I’ve failed again. That’s what I hate – the “oh no, not again” feeling.

 

Given that one wanted to die, one was up for suicide, it would seem to be a given that not dying would be a failure ………… being still on this earth would be a shame but finding that your favourite character from a TV series was with you, is a complete disaster!

 

In my case, it was the hyper-Catholic, possibly gay, very clean Detective Sergeant from a detective series on ITV. I will admit to being completely obsessed with Hathaway but when I opened my eyes and found him standing by my bedside in the Intensive Care Unit, I flipped.

 

I’m Bipolar and used to adjusting my vision. I take medication to stop me having to adjust too far, but this was a touch too much.

 

“Could you sod off Hathaway? I know you aren’t real. You are doing my head in and I would be impressed if you would just disappear.”

 

He smiled that smug, complacent smile we see on the telly so often.

 

“Sorry D.C. Cameron, I’ve been assigned to you. We don’t get to part for an instant.”

 

I tried to push myself up on the pillows and it was only the drip sticking in my hand causing me pain, that made me feel real. Even by my somewhat bizarre standards and with a bottle of vodka cocktailed with a couple of packets of benzodiazepines … life was getting weird.

 

“Oh no, not allowed” he said.

 

I tried to get out of bed and nearly fell on the floor. James came around and held me up which caused me to get even more giddy.

 

“Upsy-daisy” he said as he caught me under the arms and put me back on the bed, he was very much stronger than his slim frame would imply. I pushed harder to get up

 

“Push off, Hathaway,” I murmured as I started to pass out again “I need to piss” He was superior and calm and in charge.

 

“Well, you should have said so, Frazer. Here, let me help you.” He passed the bottle under the sheets and held it for me, I wondered if he was going to manoeuvre my dick as well but he looked away very politely as I helped myself to it. I took the bottle off him and thanked him – it’s not the sort of thing blokes do very often for each other and it makes you a bit obliged.

 

“So? What you doing here then?” I wanted to be left alone and I particularly didn’t want the boss’ little lapdog around my feet.

 

“You are a bit of a tit, aren’t you Frazer?” he said without any expression. I wanted to smack that superior, upper-class cast off his jaw – but I just said

 

“I expect that at Winchester or Eton I would have been, yes, but at my comprehensive school I was thought a bit of a big head – someone a bit like you, Sergeant.”

 

He flinched slightly and then smiled “So why the hell did a clever dick like you want to do away with himself?”

 

“It’s ………complicated, Sir,” I said, using his own catch phrase and watched as a smile spread across his face.

 

“I’m sure it is, Frazer. Do you prefer Frazer or Cameron? Would you like to explain it to me? I have all afternoon.” He really was bloody gorgeous and I didn’t want to unravel my private life to him while at the same time wanting to keep him there.

 

I took a deep breath and said “OK …. Sir … this is strictly personal. OK? I prefer Frazer if it’s all the same to you.” He nodded. I thought I would go in at the deep end

 

“I had a “one night stand” with my boss but he’s made it clear that it isn’t going any further. I got very drunk and decided to make an end of it – he won’t leave his wife. You might understand that a bit.” I found myself crying which was very embarrassing. I had promised myself I wouldn’t do that but it turned out to be a good idea because Hathaway took me in his arms, which I hadn’t been expecting.

 

James was holding me, holding me tight. I was trying not to sob but failing so he passed me his very clean, large handkerchief.

 

“Ssssssssssshhhhhh it’s OK. I’m sorry. Frazer, it’s OK to cry. Believe me, it really is OK to cry” He was rubbing my back, cradling my head on his shoulder, and convincing me that it really was OK to cry. I could use it because I had wanted to let it out for some time. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, quite still and with me wondering what the hell was going on. James took his handkerchief and dabbed at my eyes, the hankie making a scratchy sound on my jaw. I couldn’t remember when I last shaved.

 

“You feel very real” I sniffed, grabbing his hand and pressing it to my cheek, just to feel the warmth, the bones beneath the skin, the sensitive fingers curled around mine.

 

“I am as real as you make me, Frazer. It’s because you wanted me here so badly that I have been assigned to you.” He stroked the back of my head and I wondered if my short hair felt as good to him as I hoped his would feel to me. Tentatively I put a fingertip out to touch and he smiled, indulgently, like you would at a child who was not sure of the rules and bent forward to let me run my hand down the back of his head, feeling the wonderful shape of it, like a perfect statue.

 

“Why are you here, Sergeant?” I whispered in his ear, just wanting this moment to go on forever, feeling the weight of him against my chest and smelling his aftershave.

 

“Because you need me here D.C. Cameron, and you need me to help you work out where you go from here. Why do you think I am here?”

 

He got off the bed, poured me some water and kicked off his shoes to join me on the bed. “It’s fine”, he said “no one else can see me,” as he put an arm around me, cuddling me to him. “Now we talk. Why was it so wrong to try to kill yourself?” He asked me as if testing me on a lesson I should have learned years ago.

 

“It’s a mortal sin for which I would go directly to hell” I replied automatically. He nodded.

 

“AND …. He prompted.

 

“It is an indication of despair which shows a lack of faith in the goodness of God and the redemption offered by our Lord Jesus Christ.” Without even meaning to I found my head dipped at the sacred name. “Despair is tantamount to slapping our Lady in the face.” I repeated. He nodded approval.

 

“Correct, well done. You see? You do understand the basics. Anything else?” I shook my head. He slapped me very gently on the forehead

 

“What about the effect on your friends and family? Or is that what you were going for? Retribution on your Boss; make him feel bad about it? Pay him back for your one night stand in guilt and misery? Make his wife ask him why his D.C. might want to kill himself.”

 

That hadn’t crossed my mind so I said “I just wanted a rest. I wanted it all to go away. All the sleepless nights and unfulfilled ….I’m so sorry, I really am, I didn’t think.” I broke off because James was turning my face towards him, tilting my chin to look into my eyes.

 

“And what is the answer?” He asked severely and I could see the priest he would have been, could still be.

 

“Abstinence and prayer” I whispered. “Faith and fidelity, all the things I have let go.”

 

“Quite right! Well done, and who do you suppose is going to help you with that?”

 

I shook my head, dumb with unspoken longing. He uncrossed his long legs and got down off the bed, holding a hand out to me.

 

“Now that you’ve convinced me you know the answers and have shown “due contrition”, I can take you away. Come on, Frazer, time we weren’t here. They need you down at the station.”

 

I looked back at the bed and a sad, middle-aged man lay asleep, quite grey in the face and with his hands folded on the sheets. Someone had drawn a cross on his forehead and he looked peaceful.

 

“What station is that, Sergeant?” I asked. “There’s a vacancy for a D.C. in Fenchurch Street East, boss is a bit of a character but a good team, name of Hunt. Come on, I’ll drive you.”

 

It was a relief to leave the hospital, knowing I would never have to go there again.


End file.
